


secrets were made to be known

by writeforyou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marauders' Era, Trans Remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeforyou/pseuds/writeforyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus has always had secrets. He's gotten used to having them - and even more so, used to having them found out.</p><p>  <i>He called himself Remmy because he preferred that to the name his mother had given him when he was born. (It was a good name, nice, normal, but to him, for him, it had always felt wrong).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	secrets were made to be known

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this small opening about trans remus realising who he was, and starting hogwarts, starting a new life as 'Remus Lupin'. But then I got carried away and it escalated, and it became more about Remus and his relationship with the marauders. It's just fluff and cuteness basically.
> 
> unbeta'd so mistakes are my own.

 

He called himself Remmy because he preferred that to the name his mother had given him when he was born. (It was a good name, nice, normal, but to him, _for_ him, it had always felt wrong).

He asked for his hair to be cut short. Told his head that the long waves were just getting in the way and really that was just counterproductive to playing. His father, always the practical one, had hummed in understanding and told him that short hair suited his face. (It was better now, but he still put ribbon bows where he could because he liked them and it made his mother smile).

He wore shorts in the summer because skirts were too everywhere for him. He wore dresses sometimes because on an occasion, he liked how they felt.

He cried when puberty hit early and his boobs came in. He was quiet for days (“weeks Remmy, it’s been weeks”) and then his mother came back one afternoon with a piece of fabric that muggles used. Like a bra, but different. Better. He wondered whether she had known then, but his mother had only smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead and informed him when dinner would be served. Sometimes he would wear something lacy and uncomfortable, but he prefered the security.

He asked his parents to change his name to Remus when his Hogwart’s letter came. He couldn’t do that at his old school, but this new one, that would be a fresh start. A new name for a new beginning. Ironic that only a week later, he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to attend. The bite hadn’t killed him, it had turned him. After the first full moon, he wished that it had.

(He could go in the end. The headmaster had granted it and he couldn’t remember a time that he had been so relieved and terrified).

He forgot his new name for a moment when he asked. He had kept his head down, kept quiet, but he had been found anyway. Two loud, dark haired boys and a smaller giggling blond – first years, like him – had barraged their way into the compartment he had awkwardly offered to share with them. He thought they would ignore him, but they didn’t.

“What, you forgot your own name?” one snorted.

The other elbowed him harshly. “Oi Sirius, maybe your ugly mug is distracting him.”

“As if your face is all sunshine and daisies, huh Potter?”

“Well,” Potter sniffed overdramatically, “I haven’t had any complaints.”

“Maybe they just don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Sirius pointed out.

“Your both ugly prats,” the last, Peter, he had been the first one to introduce himself, stated lamely, and looked unimpressed at the looks of mock offense he got. (Later, Remus would be the same, get used to the nature of those boys who never really grew up until they were forced to).

He had smiled awkwardly, laughed and offered the name that still felt strange and yet right on his lips. He thought for a moment that they would call him out on it, say that he couldn’t be called that because – fear griped him and he wanted to clamp down on the warm feeling of hope that the outreach of friendship brought - but they didn’t argue. They smiled grinned and the conversation moved on, and he tried to ignore the frantic beating of his heart which the feeling of relief had brought to him.

They called his name at the Sorting ceremony. The right name. The one had had chosen. Even though he knew the governing body of the school had agreed to the request, his parents had assured him that, he hadn’t fully prepared himself for the reality. It felt good, shocked him into place, legs uncooperative and not even the intense stare of Professor McGongall was enough to kick them into gear. He had to be nudged up on stage by James and he stumbled the entire way there.

That day, Remus John Lupin was sorted into Gryffindor house and he had never been happier.

*

They were in second year when they found out about the wolf. There had been questions for so long, questions that Remus had always insisted was an inherent disease, not that.

“Is it serious?” Peter had worried, eyebrows furrowed. James and Sirius looked stricken, and Remus had hurriedly assured it was nothing of the sought.

“I just need to be under observation for a few days a month, that’s all. I’m not allowed visitors because they can mess with the results.”

Of course, he should have known better. His friends could be young at times, idiots at others, but they always cared too much. So when he blinked his eyes open the first morning after that full moon and Sirius was starting down at him worriedly, clutching some novelty ‘get well beary soon’ teddy to his chest that they no doubt snuck down to Hogsmeade for, he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

“What happened?” he murmured lowly, as if afraid that speaking any louder would break him. Or perhaps break Remus, he couldn’t be sure, just knew that when Sirius was quiet that it wasn’t necessarily as much of a good thing as one would be lead to think.

Mind whirling, he tried to talk, tried to think of some kind of excuse, but when he opened his mouth and tried, he wheezed and coughed and split his stitches. Madam Pomfrey scolded them both loudly, but the looks that she sent Remus made him think that it was just for show. She was just as worried as he was. That didn’t feel like a good thing.

Sirius figured it out, because of course he did. He excelled in Magical Creatures. He never came right out and said that he knew though, something Remus wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for. Two moons after that first one, he came to visit, left a pile of Honeyduke’s chocolates on the bedside table and said, “I read that it’s supposed to help”. (It does, his father told him that, learnt that from his father after he had been turned). The month after brought the same gift, just with the added statement of, “You should tell them.”

“No.”

Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. I don’t like keeping secrets from them.”

Remus didn’t either, but since that had been what he was doing – what he wanted to keep on doing – he didn’t mention that. “It’s not your secret to tell.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying you should. They won’t care.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don’t care, and they’re better than me.”

Remus shook his head, sighed out, “They’re not better than you Sirius.”

“You’re just bias because I’m your favourite,” he waved off the words, and Remus scoffed, “Believe what you want.”

“I believe because it’s true,” Sirius retorted confidently, “Just like I know that telling the others won’t change a damn thing.”

In the end, Sirius was right, and shit did Remus never want to say those to him, the cocky son of a bitch. Peter had said that he thought he might have some more chocolate left in his stash if Remus wanted that, and James asked if he had finished this week’s homework for Potions because he was terrible at it and really, he didn’t want extra lessons from Slughorn on the weekend.

Remus folded his arms across his chest, hunched himself forward and demanded to know what they were doing.

James tilted his head. “Does that mean you haven’t done the homework yet?”

“Aren’t you scared of me?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know, Remus, you fold your socks. It’s hard to be scared of someone who folds their socks.”

Peter piped in with, “you don’t like cutting up the newts in potions, Remus. Hardly dangerous.”

He was dangerous, he knew that, but faced by their nonchalant attitude, he felt stumped. More than a little vulnerable and mostly in awe at what had happened. Sirius patted him on the back, smiled softly and said, “Told you so.”

“Wait, does that mean you knew, and you didn’t tell me?” James gapped at his friend, and then turned an accusing eye on Remus, “You told Sirius before me?”

“I didn’t tell him,” Remus was quick to deflect, “He figured it out.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“Obviously because I’m a genius Jamesy-boy.”

They fell into familiar bickering, and Remus moved numbly, dropping into the seat that he always sat at and took a piece of the offered chocolate in Peter’s hand.

It was slightly warm, a little melted, but it was the best damn thing that Remus had ever tasted.

*

“Remus, you can be Moony.”

A long pause. “No.”

“Come on its perfect.”

“No.”

“If I have to be Wormtail, you have to suck it up, Moony.”

“Yeah Moony.”

“Shut up Padfoot.”

*

Remus was in fourth year when it became public knowledge that he had been born she. He had woken up that morning completely naïve, but the first word that left Avery’s mouth had clinched it, and he had swallowed bile when he turned and left the Great Hall.

He locked himself in his room all day, hid himself behind the drapes of his bed, because he wasn’t sure what else to do. It wasn’t that he was ashamed. It was that he didn’t know how this had happened. Didn’t know how to react now that it had. He didn’t know how to explain something that he didn’t truly understand himself.

He found out that evening that there had been a fight. Malfoy had said something to make James snap, and by the time that Snape had joined in, Sirius’ fist was flying towards his face. It wasn’t magical, just a violent encounter in the hallways that Professor Sprout had broken up by pinned those involved on the opposing walls. Two weeks of detention for all parties.

“I’d never seen Sirius look so angry,” Peter mused when he brought dinner up to the dorms for Remus that night.

Remus paused around the small amount of food he was chewing. “Why?”

“Well, it’s you, isn’t it Moony? We all give a shit about you, but Sirius always has more so, you know.”

Remus didn’t, but he didn’t say anything, just smiled slightly.

“Do you not care? That I’m…”

Peter shrugged. “I kind of always knew. You keep tampons in your top draw.”

“What were you doing in my draws?”

“Looking for your chocolate, obviously,” Peter rolled his eyes. “But the point is, if you tell me that your name is Remus Lupin and you’re a boy, then that’s who you are. End of story, okay?”

“I like wearing girl’s clothes, sometimes,” he amended to the end.

Peter’s nose wrinkled. “They always seemed really…breezy to me.”

“They are,” Remus assured, and laughed a little at Peter’s wide eyed look, appearing as if all his questions had been answered. He had felt lighter after that.

Sirius supported a black eye for weeks.

“You should just let Madam Pomfrey heal it,” James told him over breakfast once, when it looked particular repugnant.

Sirius shook his head carefully. “Nah, it’s like my battle scar Prongs.”

“As if you needed your face to get more fucked up,” Peter joked.

Sirius held his chest as if he had been wounded. “Oh how dare you. I’m as handsome as ever. In fact, I’m even more so. Moony, tell me I’m pretty!”

Remus had frozen for a moment, stammered through the words, and was struck with the realisation of just how true he found it to be.

Sirius beamed at him, wide and charming, and Remus stared back, heart fluttering. Fuck.

*

The first time he kissed Sirius, he was sixteen and it tasted like firewhiskey.

It was his birthday, James had managed to score some alcohol from the professor’s supply, and they had gone to the tree beside the lake to get completely smashed. It had been fun, laughing, joking, just them, that was all Remus had needed. Peter passed out early, too much of a lightweight, and James had decided swimming in the lake was a good idea and had to do a wet and shivering walk of shame back to their dorm so he could get away from the biting March air.

Remus couldn’t be sure if the firewhiskey was making him imagine things, but Sirius had been sitting too closely, thighs and knees bumping together. Their hands brushed a few times when passing along the bottle of drink. He had smiled wide and beautiful, and Remus could only take so much.

His drink addled brain told him that it was a good idea, and so he followed through.

Sirius’ lips were soft and chapped, everything he had expected and so much more. He pressed back automatically, hands grabbing and clutching and manipulating until he was above, thighs bracketing Remus to the floor. Nerves made Remus’ hands shake, so he clutched the back of Sirius’ robes because that seemed to be the only way to stop that and make sure he never left. Breathing became secondary, until they were panting, hot breath against each other’s skin, searing and marking. Remus could feel how hard Sirius’ dick was against his stomach, and when he pressed his legs together, he could feel the wetness there. It was good, good, good, all hazy at the edges like a dream.

But it was real. The cold told him that much.

He shivered under Sirius’ weight and the boy pulled back just enough to mutter, “You’re cold. We should go inside.”

The word held more promise than Remus expected and yet wanted so badly. He swallowed, nodded his agreement and whispered, “What about Wormtail?”

Sirius glanced towards their friend and back again. “Frankly, he can stay here until morning. I want you.”

The words warmed and terrified. “You know I have…”

“Not a dick? Yeah, I figured you could teach me my way around,” Sirius’ look was lecherous but teasing, still the same out Padfoot, and coupled with firewhiskey, it made Remus feel brave. His hand wrapped around Sirius dick through his jeans, enjoyed the way his breathing hitched in surprise and teased back, “As long as you give me the tour.”

Sirius snorted and giggled, and eyes lit, he jumped up, held out his hand and said, “Good sir.”

This was it, this was it, this was it. Real, real, real, real. Remus reminded himself how much he wanted this, and squished down on that fear that had stopped him from doing so much. Because it wouldn’t stop him from doing this.

(In the end, he transfigured a blanket to put around Peter’s snoring form because he couldn’t in good conscience leave him without).

*

The next morning, Remus was afraid that it would be the end. One night only and Remus would have to give him up. But when Sirius managed to grunt himself awake, hair mussed and one eye cracked up, he muttered, “too early, bed time,” and drew Remus close to him.

Their bodies were sweaty and stuck together but honestly, Remus couldn’t bring himself to care.

James bitched about the room smelling like jizz, and Sirius flipped him off from beneath the covers.

Peter congratulated Remus on nailing Sirius. “I just wish it wasn’t on my bed,” he added, slightly pained.

Remus did his Divination homework for a week. That seemed to be enough of an apology.

*

“Where are we going?” Remus laughed a little, let himself be dragged.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder to wink playfully. “That’s a surprise.”

Remus huffed. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Come on, let your boyfriend do something nice for you for our one month anniversary.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. One month isn’t usually considered enough of a landmark to be a cause of celebration,” Remus pointed out.

“But it means one month of being with you, and I want to celebrate that,” Sirius stated so firmly, that for a moment Remus was startled at the strength behind it. He blinked and thought for a moment that he might cry.

_God, I love him._

_Shit, I love him._

“Now, will you stop bitching and let me do something romantic damn it,” Sirius continued, unawares of the words circling around Remus’ head.

But he would, soon enough. In a month or two. Maybe six. Because Remus loved his man and he’ll be damned if he’ll let him get away without knowing that.

So Remus concedes to the request, and pressed his lips into an affectionate smile and tries not to let the truth show so obviously on his face. There are a few things that he wants to keep for himself, at least for now.

(He ends up confessing during an argument – a delicate situation, the kind that always arise when it involves Sirius and his family; tension and emotions made harsh words that only got worse and worse – when he’s so frustrated that he can’t think straight. He doesn’t even get the chance to enjoy the look on Sirius’ face afterwards).

(It’s fine though, because Sirius serenades him terribly from outside his window and swears love for everything Moony from his precarious perch on his broomstick, until Remus had to reach out and kiss him, even if just to shut him up).

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thankies for reading! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> I'm thinking I might write more for this, bring in Lily where I didn't here, and devel into more marauder awesomeness
> 
> i have tumblr: [pcvensies](http://gladers.co.vu)


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